


Don't You Want to Feel (My Bones on Your Bones)

by BookPirate



Series: hearts (and bones) [1]
Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Mentions of Rape, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of self-harm, bones tv show crossover, the body they investigate killed herself so
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 18:33:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5015596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookPirate/pseuds/BookPirate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke Griffin is a forensic anthropologist with the Ark Institution. Bellamy Blake is an agent with the FBI. They don't really get along, but they get the get the job done. Mostly. Featuring plenty of gossip from their friends.</p><p>*WARNING: They are working with a dead body in this fic. That's dead because she committed suicide, so, be forewarned*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't You Want to Feel (My Bones on Your Bones)

**Author's Note:**

> Alright so I've been watching like SO MUCH Bones lately. It's a real problem. So anyways, in this fanfic: Raven and Lincoln are like Angela, Monty and Jasper are Hodgins, Octavia is an Intern, and Clarke is Bones (obv) and Bellamy is Booth (even more obv). Miller is another FBI guy who is Not Sweets or Aubrey.
> 
> The Jeffersonian = The Ark Institute
> 
> Also, you don't have to watch Bones to get this. And I apologize for the shitty science. Blame TV. I do.
> 
> THE BODY THEY INVESTIGATE IS A SUICIDE WHO SLIT HER WRISTS AND SHE WAS RAPED OKAY JUST SO YOU KNOW PLEASE DON'T GET TRIGGERED.
> 
> Title from 'Bones' by the Killers

"So," Octavia asks, bouncing in her seat a little, "is today the day you ask out Clarke?"

Bellamy shifts uncomfortably in his seat, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. "Who said I was going to ask out Clarke?"

"Your face," Octavia smirks, "right now."

He frowns. "Don't you think it's a little creepy you're speculating about your boss' love life?"

"No."

He sighs. "I'm not asking her out, O."

"Be serious, Bell. Everyone can see the way you look at her!" she whines.

He eyes her suspiciously. "You have money on this, don't you?"

The disapproving look she gives him reminds him of their mother. "Everyone does, not just me. If someone's going to win, it might as well be family, right?"

"Or, you'll all lose." He pulls up to where all the other cars are parked, lights flashing. It's a little park, completely cordoned off by police tape. "We're here."

"You know, I didn't hear you say you weren't interested," she says as they get out of the car.

"You're lucky we were going to the same place today," he says with a scowl, slamming the door behind him and marching up to where everyone has gathered. "Next time you can walk to work."

"Ms. Blake!" Clarke looks up from the skeleton she's examining as they approach. "You're late."

"Sorry, Dr. Griffin! My brother got lost," Octavia chirps as she snaps on a pair of latex gloves.

He flips her off once Clarke turns back to the bones, and she sends him a sunny smile in return.

"I don't doubt it, Ms. Blake," Clarke says dryly. Bellamy makes a face at her back, which makes Jasper snort from where he's collecting bugs. "Now, please tell me what you see."

"Let's see." Octavia crouches down by Clarke and gently moves some of the scraps of fabric that have rotted with the flesh. "Um, due to the shape of the iliac crest and tilt of the sacrum, I would say the victim is a female."

"Very good!" Clarke gives his sister a sunny smile, and Bellamy hates the way it twists him up inside, knowing she never looks at him like that.

Bellamy decides this is going to be a crap case, and then he’s going to ask for a transfer so he can get over Clarke. "Anything else?" he asks sharply.

"Due to the parabolic nature of the maxilla, I would say she's definitely caucasian, and based on the wear on her teeth, I would put her in her mid-to-late teens. Good enough for you?" Clarke snaps as she stands up.

Bellamy ignores her as he jots down the information in his notebook. "And in terms of how long she's been dead?"

"Tissue decomp suggests three days." Wells sighs and straightens. "Sorry, Agent Blake, but I think that’s all we can tell you from here. We need to take the remains back to the lab."

"Alright, let's wrap it up, then." Bellamy shouts at the surrounding grunts, making a motion with his hands. "I'll meet you guys back at the Ark."

"That's not necessary," Clarke says as she snaps her field case shut. "I'll call you when we're done with the examination."

He glares at her, but she doesn't meet his eyes. "Fine," he snaps. "I'll be in my office, twiddling my thumbs, then."

"Ooh, Mom and Dad are fighting again," Jasper stage-whispers.

Both Bellamy and Clarke whip around to stare down the entomology expert. "I'm sorry, Dr. Jordan, do you have anything more to add to the conversation?" Clarke asks him cooly.

Jasper gulps and Octavia and Wells snicker behind their hands and wrists. "Nothing, just that the blowfly activity supports the dead-three-days theory."

"Good. I will see you all at the lab. Ms. Blake, please make sure the FBI doesn't contaminate the remains," Clarke orders as she walks back to her car.

"Miller, make sure the Ark squints gets everything they need," Bellamy shouts as he stalks towards his own vehicle.

"We are not squints!" Clarke turns on her heel to face him. "What is your problem today?”

Bellamy pushes down the feeling that maybe he’s going to far. “You’re my problem! You walk around here acting like you’re so much better -”

Clarke cuts him off. “I do not! Just because I’m smarter than some people doesn’t mean -”

“See! You admitted it!” Bellamy shouts. Everyone is staring but he doesn’t care.

“I did not! And you’re being unprofessional!” she accuses.

She's red in the face, and he pushes down the thought that she's even cuter this way. "What're you going to do about it? Complain to your mommy, princess?"

"Don't call me that!" She shoves him, hard, before going back to her car. "You’re such a fucking asshole."

He recovers from his stumble, jerking forward to overcompensate for the push backwards. "I could have you arrested for assaulting an officer!" he shouts after her, but she just flips him off from behind her wheel and drives off.

Miller walks up to him, and watches her drive away in silence. After a beat or two, he turns to Bellamy. "So, how's the whole feelings thing going?"

"Shut the fuck up, Miller," Bellamy growls. "What the fuck do you want?"

Miller puts his hands up in a peaceful gesture. "Nothing, just that while you were shouting we've got everything packed up and ready to go."

"Great." Bellamy sighs and runs his hands through his hair. "Just great."

* * * * *

"Infuriating man," Clarke mutters as she flips through the x-ray images on the computer. "What an asshole."

"You okay there, Clarke?" Raven swipes her ID badge before joining her on the forensic platform. "You've been muttering to yourself for the last five minutes."

"It's nothing. I'm just looking at the x-rays again while Octavia cleans the bones." She sighs and shifts a little as she stands. "How's Lincoln doing with the facial reconstruction?"

"He's with O now, so it'll probably be a day or two." Raven smirks. "They're almost as bad as you and Bellamy."

"Why does everyone insist there's something going on between us?" Clarke demands. "He apparently hates me, end of story."

"I'd actually buy that if I didn't know you so well.” Raven sighs, leans against the railing of the platform. “Just fuck already, that'll get the animosity out of the way."

"Raven," Clarke hisses, glancing around to see if anyone could possibly be listening. "I thought we'd agreed to not talk about this at work. You know, where his sister is?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Raven makes a dismissive gesture with her left hand. "Like she's not in on the pool either."

"You guys seriously need to get lives. Betting on whether or not the boss will get laid is pretty creepy."

"Oh, but you're so entertaining!"

"Thanks," Clarke says, dry. "That brings me so much comfort."

"Anytime, chica."

"Heads up, Dr. G! Bones coming through!" Octavia calls as she brings the tub of bones up to the table next to Clarke. "All clean."

"I better go and run Lincoln's recreation through missing persons and the DMV." Raven claps Clarke on the back. "Have fun!"

Clarke sifts through the bones, laying them out in order with Octavia, correcting her where necessary. "Due to the sutures on the skull, I would more accurately put her age at 15."

"That's young," Octavia remarks softly. "She has enlarged facets at the distal ends of the radius and ulna at the point of articulation with the carpels, but they look like they were healing."

"Her wrists were bound." Clarke sighs. "Note the straddle fractures on the pelvis. The remodeling suggests she was sexually assaulted one month ago." She pulls off her gloves, tosses them in the garbage bin. "Ms. Blake, please continue to examine the bones and see if you can find us cause of death. I should notify Dr. Reyes of the rape."

"Do you want me to tell Bell?" Octavia asks, shifting nervously on her feet.

Clarke rubs her temples. "No, that won't be necessary. I'm a big girl, and this is my job, not yours."

"I'm sorry about him, Dr. G. I swear he's usually not that hard to get along with."

Clarke offers Octavia a slight smile. "I don't blame you for your brother, Ms. Blake, but I appreciate it. Let me know if you find anything."

She’s just about halfway to Raven’s office when Lincoln literally bumps into her. She squeaks in surprise and almost falls over. He steadies her, however, a slight blush on his cheeks. “Sorry, Dr. G.”

“It’s okay, Lincoln.” She smiles up at him as she brushes her skirt off. “You came barrelling out of Raven’s. What’s up?”

“Reyes told me to get you. Positive ID on the victim.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you sure that’s why you were so excited? Not because of my intern?”

“No.” Lincoln shifts uncomfortably.

“Sure,” Clarke says flatly. “Well, go ahead and get her anyway.” He turns to start walking, but she stops him again. “Hey, Lincoln?”

“Hmm?” He turns back to look at her.

“If it helps any, she likes you, too.” She gives him a smile.

It’s Lincoln’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Just like Agent Blake likes you?”

“Shut up,” she snaps. “I can still fire you.”

“Sorry,” he apologizes, not actually looking sorry at all. “I’ll go get Octavia.”

Clarke storms into Raven’s office. “Answer me this.”

Raven and Wells, who had been hunched over Raven’s desk, both look up in alarm. “What?”

Clarke feels like an ass. She knows that Wells has a massive crush on Raven, and that he’s slowly winning her over, and now she’s interrupted something. “I’m sorry, was I interrupting something?”

“No,” Wells says too quickly, as a blush forms on his cheeks.

“Just showing Jaha the new algorithm I’m writing for processing the healing of compound fractures when we age the remains.” Raven is determinedly not looking at her, but at the projection screen.

Clarke bites back a smile. “So, I heard a rumor we had a positive ID on the victim?”

“Right.” Raven taps a few things on her tablet, and a side-by-side picture of the face Lincoln drew and the missing person’s information.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Lincoln and Octavia?” Wells asks.

Clarke makes a flippant gesture. “They’ll show up eventually.”

Wells comes to stand beside her. “Is that really the work ethic you want to instill in our interns?”

“ _My_ intern,” she corrects, “and we can fill her in later. So, Raven?”

“Right, so, according to the missing person’s report our victim’s name is Charlotte Warren, 15.” Raven taps a few more things on her tablet, so that the missing person’s report is zoomed in. “She’s been missing for three days -”

“- congruent with time of death,” Clarke interjects.

“Right. Also, her parents filed a rape report on her behalf about a month ago. The rapist was their next-door neighbor, and he was arrested pretty soon after.” Raven sighs, sets her tablet down. “You want the parents’ address?”

“Yes, please.” Clarke sighs, looks at her phone. “I guess I should call Agent Blake.”

“Come on, Clarke, you know you want to,” Rayen says in a sing-song voice.

Wells sighs. “I don’t know, Raven, he was pretty rude to her at the crime scene.”

“Because men are shit with feelings, it’s a proven fact,” Raven snarks at him, turning to tap away at her computer.

“I’m pretty good with my feelings!” Wells argues.

Clarke raises an eyebrow at him, looks pointedly over at Raven. “Sure, okay, Wells.”

At least he has the decency to blush.

* * * * *

Bellamy is uncomfortable with the silence that’s settled between him and Clarke in the car as they drive to the Warrens. Clarke doesn’t seem affected, staring out the window thoughtfully. He’s tapping wildly at the steering wheel, deciding if he should break the silence or not. The drive is a half hour, and he doesn’t know if he can take it.

He ends up not having to, because Clarke then snaps, “For fuck’s sake, can you stop that?”

“Sorry, princess, I thought it was a free country,” he snaps back.

She goes still, before turning to him. “Stop the car.”

“What?” He’s confused by her sudden calmness.

“I said, stop the car, Blake,” she moves her hand to the door handle, “or I’ll roll out the car, anyways.”

“What the fuck? Why?” He twists to look over at her.

“Okay, I warned you,” she says, before opening the door.

“Jesus Christ!” He swerves the car so the door slams shut again. “Clarke!”

“See!” She turns to him again. “You can say my name! So why is it so fucking hard?”

He screeches the car to halt by the side of the road, turns in his seat fully to face her. “Why do you hate that stupid nickname so much?”

“I’m not a fucking princess, okay?” To his horror, he can see tears welling in her eyes. “Just because my family is rich, and my mom is on the board for the Ark, doesn’t mean I’m a princess.”

His jaw works as he tries to think of how to deal with this new situation. He decides yelling might make her angry again, so she won’t cry. “So what, it makes you a queen? It must have been so hard to grow up rich, and to have your mommy get you a job.”

It does the opposite. “Fuck you, Blake,” she snarls, before opening the door of the car again and storming out.

“Shit,” he mutters, before chasing after her. “Clarke! Wait!”

She doesn’t turn around, though, not until he physically grabs her elbow, after which she swings around with a fist. “Don’t touch me!”

He catches the punch before it can land, twists it so he’s holding her hand. “What is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” she says bitterly, openly crying. “Go talk to the Warrens, I’ll call a taxi.”

“No, I’m not leaving you like this.” He sighs, pulls her hand so she’s standing a little closer to him. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have said those things. I was, uh, hoping if I made you madder you wouldn’t cry.”

She glares at him for a long moment, before snorting. “What the fuck kind of logic is that?”

He cracks a grin. “Well, you know, you love telling me how infuriating and wrong I am.”

“That’s true.” She sniffles and wipes at her nose. “I am much smarter than you.”

“Thanks, Clarke, really,” he says dryly. He reaches into his suit pocket with his free hand to get his handkerchief, and hands it over to her. “Here. Now, will you please tell me why you’re so upset?”

Clarke looks up, considers him. It’s quiet for a few beats, before she takes a deep breath. “My, um, my dad died when I was 13. He was an engineer, working on some top secret stuff for the government. I was too young to know what exactly, but I knew it was important.” A few more tears leak out, and she presses the handkerchief to her eyes. “My mom, she, uh, talked about his work, which was a new, more effective weapon, apparently, at a fundraiser for the Ark. He was found dead six days later, murdered in his office. They never caught who did it.” Her voice cracks on the last sentence, and starts sobbing.

Bellamy feels like the worst person in the world, and lets go of Clarke’s hand to pull her in for a hug. She instinctively burrows her face into her neck, so her rubs her back, trying to soothe her. “I’m so sorry, Clarke. I didn’t know.”

She sniffles one last time before pulling back. “It’s okay. Why would you?”

“I was still an ass, and that wasn’t okay.” He keeps his arm around her shoulder, though, mostly because he wants to make sure she’s okay, but also partly because he’s like 90% sure he’s never going to get this close to her again. “I have a question, and you can totally tell me to shove it up my ass if you want, you know, or -”

“Spit it out,” she says, interrupting him. She’s got a small smile on her face, so he takes that to be a good sign.

“Why would you work at the Ark if you think your mother’s the reason your father is dead?”

“Valid question.” Clarke exhales harshly and drops her forehead back against Bellamy’s shoulder, which, yeah he’s not complaining. “I don’t know. She was always pushing me to become a doctor, so I immediately decided to not do that. In college I was an art major, but eventually I realized I liked anthropology the best. It wasn’t hard medicine but it wasn’t straight art, either. I got to be really good at it, like really good.” She sighs. “So, fast forward to right after getting my PhD, which was when Wells, who did what his dad wanted and went to med school, told me the head anthropologist and head coroner positions were open at the Ark, I had to take it. I could never get a position like this right out of grad school if my mom hadn’t been on the board. But,” she pauses, swallows, “I don’t talk to her, barely see her on Thanksgiving and Christmas. Does that make me a bad person?”

He presses a kiss to her hair. “No. You’re just,” he searches for the right words, “doing the best you can with what you have.”

“Thanks.” It’s nice and quiet between them for a few moments, until she suddenly steps back and looks up at him. “You’re being oddly nice. Why?”

The guilt comes crashing back in waves. “I can be nice.”

“Not to me. You don’t like me.”

He sighs, scrubs at his face. “Look, Clarke, it’s not,” he sighs again, frustrated, “I’ve always liked you, okay?”

She bursts into laughter, starts walking back to the car. “Yeah, okay. Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

“I do!” he protests. She’s still laughing, though, so he curses himself all the way back to the car.

* * * * *

“Griffin.”

“Hey, Dr. G!” Octavia chirps into the phone in the center of Raven’s desk. “I’ve got cause of death.”

“Okay, let’s hear it.”

“Have you been laughing?” Raven asks, leaning closer to speaker. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you sound happy.”

“Shut up, Dr. Reyes,” Clarke snaps. “Ms. Blake, cause of death please.”

Octavia can hear some muttering in the background and a stifled giggle. “Um, okay. There was a nick on the scaphoid, the directionality and angle of which suggest her ulnar artery had been completely severed.”

“She would bleed out in sixty seconds.” Clarke sighs. “Were there any other markings on the bones, anything that would suggest defensive wounds?”

“No, Dr. G. I tripled checked the bones, too.” Octavia meets Raven’s eyes across the desk. “There’s some other news, too.”

“What is it?”

Raven clears her throat. “Wells ran a tox screen on what was left of the liver. Apparently the victim was on some heavy-duty anti-depressants.”

“Oh. So, that’s what happened.” There’s a pause of silence, before a short scuffle, and then an angry shout. “Bell-”

Bellamy’s voice comes on and says, “O?”

“Bell?” Octavia asks, incredulous. “How did you get Dr. G’s phone?”

“That’s not important,” he says. “What did you - hey, Clarke, no, fuck -”

Raven raises an eyebrow and Octavia shrugs. She tries again. “Dr. G?”

“Hey,” Clarke says, panting, “I’m back. Anything else we should know before we go in to talk to Charlotte’s parents?”

“No.” Octavia hesitates. “Is everything okay?”

“Yup! Everything’s fine! Bye!” Clarke chirps, and then the line goes dead.

“What in the hell?” Octavia chews on her thumbnail. “Should we call them back? Something seemed wrong.”

Raven laughs, pats Octavia on the back. “Actually, I would say something seemed to finally be right.”

* * * * *

“You can’t just take my phone like that!” Clarke says angrily as she shuts the car door behind her.

“You can’t just not tell me what you think happened!” Bellamy responds hotly.

“I would’ve if you just waited until I was done talking to your sister!” Clarke takes a deep breath, exhales slowly. “God, you’re such a dick.”

“Never claimed I wasn’t.” He smirks at her as they come to a stop in front of the front door. He presses the doorbell.

“So, even though we’re friends now, I guess we’re still going to bicker,” she remarks dryly.

“We’ll be in our 70s and bickering, trust me,” Bellamy says without thinking. As soon as it’s said, however, he snaps his jaw shut and keeps his eyes on the door.

“70s, huh?” Clarke sounds like she’s trying not to laugh.

Thankfully, the door swings open and who must be the Warrens stand behind it. The man asks, “Can I help you?”

It’s like a switch after that, and Bellamy can feel the weight of his job in his bones. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Warren? I’m Special Agent Blake, and this is my partner, Dr. Clarke Griffin.” Out of the corner of his eye he can see Clarke’s jaw twitching, which he knows means she’s fighting a smile. It’s the first time he’s ever admitted she’s his partner out loud, after three cases of trying to get him to say it.

“Have you found Charlotte?” Mrs. Warren looks equal parts hopeful and afraid.

“I’m afraid so, Mrs. Warren. Mind if we come in?” Bellamy uses his softest voice, hoping to avoid a breakdown.

It doesn’t work though, and Mrs. Warren breaks down in Mr. Warren’s arms as he waves Bellamy and Clarke through to a sitting area. Clarke looks highly uncomfortable, like she usually does when she helps him notify the families. He sits next to her, covertly takes her hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze. She smiles briefly up at him, before schooling her features into a sympathetic expression.

Mr. and Mrs. Warren sit down on the sofa across from them, once Mrs. Warren is more composed, and Bellamy regretfully lets Clarke pull her hand from his. Mr. Warren runs a hand through his hair. “What happened?”

“Charlotte was found in Lincoln Park at 8 this morning. I understand she had been missing for three days, correct?” Bellamy asks.

“Yes, she’d um, she’d been having some trouble lately. Our neighbor, um, took advantage of her,” he says before he starts crying. “She seemed like she was getting over it, but now she’s gone.”

“Do you know who did it?” the mother cries. “Who took my baby away from me?”

Bellamy shifts, uncomfortable, in his chair and looks at Clarke, who meets his gaze. She gives him a slight nod, before turning back to Charlotte’s parents. “Am I correct in thinking that after the rape, she needed to be put on some anti-depressants?”

“Yes,” Mrs. Warren nods, “but she was doing better! She told me she loved me before she left for school the day she disappeared. She hadn’t done that in a while.”

“I’m very sorry, Mrs. Warren, but I don’t think she was doing better.” Clarke takes a deep breath before saying, “Charlotte committed suicide. She slit her wrists in the park, and died within a minute. Quicker and easier than falling asleep.”

After a few more minutes, Bellamy and Clarke find themselves on the sidewalk outside of the Warren’s home. They stand still for a moment, processing their day. Clarke rests her head against Bellamy’s shoulder. “I hate these cases,” he admits to her.

“Yeah, me, too.” Clarke sighs, starts walking towards the car. “Come on, let’s go to the 100. You can buy me a drink.”

“You wanna get a drink with me?” Bellamy asks incredulously.

Clarke gives him a smile over his shoulder. “Well, if we’re going to be bickering in our 70s, we have to start somewhere.”

* * * * *

Octavia stares off into space, drumming her fingers on the examination table she's supposed to be clearing off. “Hey, if Clarke and Bell started dating, do you think they’d tell us?”

“Please,” Raven scoffs, as she runs updates on the computers on the forensic platform, “they couldn’t hide it. It’s been months in the making.”

“If you say so.” Octavia completes boxing up the remains. “Well, I’m done with my duties for the day. Wanna come get a drink at the 100?”

“Sure, why the hell not? Should we grab the gang?”

“Yeah, I’ll ask Lincoln, you ask everybody else!” Octavia chirps, before running off to find her crush.

Raven laughs, shakes her head before knocking on Monty and Jasper’s joint office door. “Hey guys, we’re going to the 100. Wanna come?”

The two are bent over one of their examination tables, watching beetles scurrying. “Busy!” Monty calls.

“Doing what?”

“Racing beetles, now go away, Joey is winning!” Jasper makes a shooing motion.

“I’ve really got to find a more normal place to work,” Raven mutters to herself, before walking off to find Wells.

She doesn’t have to go far, because he rounds the corner at almost the exact time she does. “Dr. Reyes!”

“We’re off the clock, you know,” Raven points out. “You can call me Raven.” She pauses. “Actually, you could always call me Raven. Clarke does.”

“Yeah, well, Clarke isn’t as mindful of some of the procedures we have to go through as heads of the institution.” Wells sighs. “She gets to do all the fun stuff.”

“Aw, we have fun, don’t we?” She elbows him gently.

He smiles. “Yeah, I guess we do. So, were you looking for me?”

She brightens up. “Oh, yeah! Octavia and I were going to go to the 100, and wanted to see if anybody wanted to come.”

His eyebrows raise. “Octavia?”

“Yeah, she’s supposed to be grabbing Lincoln.”

He laughs. “Yeah, that’s not happening. I came to find you to because they’re making out in the bone room.”

Raven laughs, too. “Well, do you still want to come? I don’t really feel like drinking alone tonight.”

Wells sombers at that. “Yeah, I’ll come.”

The good thing about the 100 is that it’s literally two blocks from the Ark Institution. The bad thing about it is that it’s also generally packed. They push their way through the bodies in the front door, trying to look above everybody’s heads to spot an empty table or booth.

Raven spots a flash of blonde hair. “Oh hey, looks like Clarke is here! Come on!”

She drags Wells over by his elbow, pushing people away left and right. Wells, who is taller than she is, pulls her to a stop, once they get closer, though. “Uhh, Raven?”

“What?” She glances up at him, and follows his gaze, to where people have parted, and Clarke and Bellamy are making out in the back of a booth. “Oh.”

She turns to look back up at Wells, who is looking at her. They burst into laughter at the same time, people around them giving them weird looks. After they calm down, Wells asks, “So, who won the bet?”

“You!” Raven says, with a little shove. “It’s Friday!”

“Oh yeah!” he grins. “I forgot.”

She laughs again. “Well, then, nevermind, it’s me.”

“I would’ve remembered eventually!” he protests.

“Sure, whatever you say.” She pats him on the shoulder, leads him back to the bar. “Come on, you can buy me a drink with those winnings, and that way I win, too.”

“On what?”

She smiles up at him. “On when you’d finally ask me out.”

He blushes. “Isn’t this cheating, though? If you ask me?”

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” she says with a wink.

He grins. “Sounds good to me.”

* * * * *

"Do you want another drink?" Bellamy asks, his tone light and teasing. "Or are you satisfied with the amount of money I've spent on you?"

Clarke laughs. "I could probably milk you for a couple more beers, but if that was your way of asking if I want to get out of here, my answer is yes."

"You read my mind." He tosses money on the table, grabs her hand, and leads her out of the bar. "So, where do you wanna go?"

She bites her lips, considers him. "I really want to ask you to come back to my place, but I also don't want to rush things. I mean, we've really only been getting along today. For the majority of our acquaintanceship you've been a giant dick."

He looks down, embarrassed. "Yeah, I know. I'm still kind of in shock that you were willing to get a drink with me."

"Bellamy, why?" Clarke asks. "I love your sister, and everyone else is always speaking highly of you. I thought maybe at first it was because of the stuff with my mom, but you're perfectly fine with Wells, and now you've done this almost 180."

"I know," he says, still looking at the ground. "It was at first the money thing, but you're just, you're perfect you know?" He lifts his head and meets her gaze. "You're smart and beautiful and funny and kind, and so I felt I had to hate you, to distance myself from you, to make you hate me. It didn't work, and I want to try and make it up to you."

She rocks back on her heels, studying him. She weighs the pros and cons in her mind before saying, "I think that's one of the stupidest things I've ever heard," she half-heartedly kicks his foot, "and it didn't even work, asshole. I've always thought you were a good, kind, brave man, who just happened to be a dick to me." She searches his eyes. "If I ever feel like you're doing this for some sick, twisted pleasure -"

"Never, I swear," he promises, sweeping her into a hug. "I like you, Dr. Clarke Griffin."

She looks up at him with a smile on her face. "And I like you, too, Special Agent Bellamy Blake."

He leans down just as she reaches up, and their lips meet in the middle. It's slow and languid, their lips moving together in tandem. His hands slip to her hips and he presses her tightly to him. She cards her fingers through his hair, feeling the same urge to have him as close as possible, to be wrapped up in him. Her lips reflect the urgency she feels and soon she's slipping her tongue into his mouth. A groan rips from his chest and he pulls back a little, panting. "Clarke."

"Bellamy." She presses her forehead to his shoulder. "I think this is the part where you take me home."

"Are you sure? I don't want to rush you."

She snorts. "I've already admitted to liking you, and you said you like me. I don't think that's rushing anything." She slips her hands into his pockets. "You're my partner. I already trust you with my life. Trusting you emotionally isn't that hard."

"Be still my beating heart," he teases. "You're so romantic."

"Shut up," she says with a smile. "I made a speech. That's romantic. It's your turn now."

"Okay." He grins, and before she can blink he's slung her over his shoulder. A couple of people in the street hoot.

"Bellamy!" She tries to shout but it comes out in laughter instead. "Put me down!"

"Nope! This is romantic!" He laughs, too, and it's a sweet sound. "Now, your place or mine?"

"If you're being a caveman you might as well take me to your cave."

"Good point." He sets her down gently, pulls her in for another kiss, too brief for her liking. "Hey, Clarke."

"Yeah?"

He intertwines their fingers and starts to lead her down the street. "I really like you."

"I really like you, too." She swings their hands a little. "So, you think I'm perfect?"

"Shut up," he says without heat. "Don't tell Octavia I told you that. Tell her I was cool and suave."

"Suave?" she asks, amused.

He nods. "Suave."

She squeezes his hand. "No promises."

"Yeah," he sighs, "I figured."


End file.
